A Wedding in December
Lately her emotions had been all over the place, but even she was taken aback by the depths of her disappointment.
She didn’t want to stay in a tree house in the forest. She wanted to stay in this luxurious place, with its twinkling lights and fairy-tale aura. Snowfall Lodge was so far from her everyday life it seemed like nirvana. She wanted to be wrapped by its welcoming warmth and cocooned by the flickering fire she could see through the glass doors. But apparently that wasn’t on the agenda.
Goodbye spa. Goodbye massage and thermal pool. Goodbye any hope of recovery.
“A tree house.” It was a struggle to keep her tone light. “With the spiders. Yay. Very Hitchcock.”
“It’s not so bad once you’re up there, although I admit pulling yourself up on the rope can be a challenge. How are your muscles, Doctor?”
She didn’t have muscles. “You pull yourself up on a rope?”
“How else would you get into the tree? And don’t worry about spiders. They’re big, but they’re not poisonous. Most people find the worst thing is the motion sickness, but you’re a doctor so I’m sure you have all the medication you need for that.”
“Motion sickness?”
“The place is built in a tree. When it’s windy, the branches sway and the house sways with it.” He focused on the road, his lights picking up the mounds of snow piled along the edge. “Some people strap themselves to the bed so they don’t fall out in the night. Same principle as turbulence on an airplane.”
Katie had been sick on the plane when they’d encountered turbulence. She hadn’t been able to use the swing in the park when she was a child. She wanted to tell him to turn around. She didn’t want to do this. She couldn’t do this.
“Are you sure there aren’t any vacant rooms in Snowfall Lodge?”
“They reserved this place specially for you.”
Karma. They must have sensed that she was here to disrupt the wedding rather than celebrate it.
And Jordan wasn’t showing her a morsel of sympathy.
“Look, I really don’t think I can—”
“We’re here.” He pulled up and flashed his headlights. “There. Look up.”
She lifted her gaze slowly, reluctantly, braced for the worst. Thanks to him she’d pictured a rickety structure, lashed together by cobwebs and possibly with a haggard old crone in the doorway to greet her.
The reality was so far from the picture he’d painted that it was a moment before she could speak.
The tree house wasn’t built into branches, although the design was such that at first glance it appeared to be. It was perched on a slope, surrounded by tall trees, their branches bowing under the weight of snow. A two-story hideaway nestled into the trees as if it had grown there along with the forest.
A beautiful wooden staircase wound up to the front door. “No rope.” She saw his faint smile and felt stupid. “I hate you.”
“I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.”
“But I did, so why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Because you were wound so tight I thought you could do with a laugh.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
He gave her a long look. “No, which is a shame, because I’m willing to bet you look cute when you laugh.”
Something shifted inside her. Something that made her feel more uncomfortable than she already was. “Just so you know, I really am thinking of killing you.”
“But then you’d spend Christmas behind bars, and this place is more comfortable,” he said easily. “More hedonism than horror, don’t you think? The tree houses are some of the most sought-after places to stay around here. Most of us normal mortals couldn’t ever afford
to stay in one.”
“I’m definitely going to have to kill you.” She hesitated. “Do the tree houses sway when it’s windy?”
“They’re rock solid. I can guarantee that, because I helped build them.”